Proud mama moment of the day.

At the playground:

Owen holds out his hand to the smaller little girl, obviously nervous to cross the wobbly bridge on the jungle gym.

"It's ok - you not be scurred! I helps you." 

Melt.

No no mama, only babies get sick!

Owen

One last gorgeous beach day. (Taken with Instagram at Sea Isle City)

Checking out the "choo-CHOO!" at the Franklin Institute after brunch at Honey's. This weekend with my boys has been good for the soul. (Taken with Instagram)

Making the best of a sweltering summer morning at the farmer's market. (Taken with Instagram)

Dropped our little man off at Nana and Nonno's so that we can spend a long weekend in Chicago celebrating a good friend's wedding. Already missing him in the worst way!

Buying ourselves some time at Ikea. (Luckily, for a toddler, putting them back is just as fun.) (Taken with Instagram)

Kids are amazing. Even before I became a pediatrician, the sheer volume of information and skills that a child must master over the course of a few years seemed monumental, and the fact that ANY-one can develop normally, under a huge variety of home environments completely boggled my mind. Add in 4 years of medical school, 3 years of pediatric training and 2+ years in the NICU at one of the busiest children’s hospitals in the country, and I’m convinced that “normal development” truly is a miracle.

Even more than the traditional gross motor milestones, like rolling, sitting, crawling, walking, I was focused on Owen’s language development. Babbling seemed to happen a bit late, but by 14 or 15 months he still had no non-specific words. (Picture Greg and I following him around all day: “DA-da” “MA-ma” “Da-da!”) We spoke with his pediatrician and she agreed this seemed a little unusual, but likely he was just a little delayed and would catch up in no time. “Boys talk later,” everyone said. “You didn’t talk until you were 2 years old!” said my mom (really, Mom?) “My son was the same way,” said pretty much everyone. We continued to read books, name everything in sight, offer choices, and continued the sign language we had started when he was 6 or 7 months, since he had started to sign consistently. We knew he could hear (he was following commands and could identify many objects when asked), but confirmed that with a formal hearing screen. We had his development formally evaluated, and despite being slightly advanced in all other areas, expressive language was lagging months behind. Enter speech therapy once a week.

Fast forward to today. I come home from overnight call to a disheveled Owen still in his PJs excitedly jabbering at the top of the stairs, intermixed with “Mommy! Mommy!” (What a welcome home!) He grabs my hand and pulls me into the playroom to show me his trucks, and names his firetruck, its hose and ladder, and its red color. We play with his airplane, his “peace tar” (police car). He climbs “up!” on the couch and asks for me to put him “down”. He signs and says please at the same time, asking for “O-ort” (yogurt). In the last one week, he’s learned about 75 words, and some phrases (See above. “No pa-ting. Ire-ane! *giggle giggle*” seems like it will be particularly useful in the future.). I continue to be amazed at how much more communicative he is, and I’m thrilled to see his personality continue to take shape.

We’ve come such a long way in such a short time, and I can’t attribute it to any one new intervention that we’ve tried. Everyone else has been right, of course - kids develop on their own time! While it’s likely that this pediatrician mom will never stop worrying that something is wrong, she’s learning to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Peekaboo. (Taken with Instagram)

The "no" face. (Taken with Instagram)

Hello, spring? Is that you?

Post-call happiness.

If only Winnie were qualified to answer my pages. I'd be all set.

Just modeling the Phillies hat I sort of took from Daddy. It fits me perfectly!

Doux reves!

I close the door, and feelings of exhaustion and fulfillment wash over me simultaneously. Another day finished, another week begins.

Lately, my favorite time of day has become the bedtime routine. It helps that Owen really seems to enjoy it. At the same time every day, Owen heads to the baby gate leading to the upstairs and glances over expectantly. Bath time? We ask. He crawls upstairs and runs haphazardly to the bathroom. Bath time! We run the water, strip him down, and he runs around laughing his head off. The little man loves being naked!

After the bath, we dry off, get dressed, brush teeth and hair, and settle in to read. Despite dreading having to read "Puss in Boots" by request for the 21st day in a row - seriously? - I soak in the warmth and weight and clean smell of my little man. One more book? Ok. It's perfection. We rock and sing "Baby Beluga", turn on the nightlight and the sound machine, and kiss goodnight. And I say I love you for the millionth time today, and mean it even more than the last time. I linger as Owen snuggles into his blanket with Winnie in a headlock. And I close the door. Ah.

Another week begins.  

Le weekend.

Funny how one day off while on service feels alarmingly like re-joining the real world, however briefly. The kitchen gets a work out, laundry makes the transition from dirty to clean, social emails get answered, credit card bills get paid, and Owen gets smothered with hugs and smooches. I catch up on world news and the weather forecast. And our house continues to feel a little more like a home... a little more progress on the playroom!

Someone really enjoyed his dinner.